From What We Once Were
by Blood in Water
Summary: Eight Months is a long time to suffer...three seasons is a long time for nobody to find out you've been missing.[So I'm bad at Summaries...please read!]Rated for mutilation and detailed morbid transactions.[Ch 10 up!]
1. Locations

**From What We Once Were**

**Chapter 1; Locations**

_Bane; "You will find that it is not difficult to tell what this is going to be if you've read my first two stories. (Brought to Light) (Burnt Rose)."_

_Drumstick; "It's an EdwardxWinry fluff. Angst, as usual, and romance, as usual."_

_A; -grumbling-_

_Bane; -pokes A-_

_A; -makes profane gesture at Bane-_

_Bane; -gets pelted by lemons-_

_Drumstick; "Bane…you have to feed A. She's thirsty again…"_

_Bane; "Fine! I'm make lemonade." -.-'_

_A; -prances off to find lemon-squeezer-_

_Bane; "Okay. I know that at first, you're going to think it's cliché (This word is a habit in my context...get over it!). But I really don't think so. Well, yes, she's been kidnapped in loads of fics, but have you ever seen her NOT want to get rescued by Edward? I didn't think so."_

* * *

"Damn it! Where is he!" 

He aimed another blow at her face. She barely even noticed; it was nearly numb now, simply twinging with occasional prickles. Chains held both arms up, as they had done so for the last two hours. Her tormentor was able to screech for extended periods of time.

Her body battered and bruised, she still found reason to smirk.

"You'll never find him. He belongs to the state, and he belongs to me. And that is reason enough for him to stay hidden."

"And you'll break long before we look."

The beating went on for another long hour. She was barely lucid as they brought her to her room. It was bare, and painted a gloomy grey. She was set in the corner, where they didn't bother to restrain her.

When at last the anesthetized feeling wore off, she was forced to chew on her index knuckle to keep from crying out. Winry refused to allow them to know that the morphine they took care in forcing her to consume was emphasizing the agony.

She had finally found a feeling of peace; of narcotic numbness. And then it faded away slowly, breaking in the wake of unceasing agony.

* * *

She fell asleep to the prayer that had haunted her for eight months; that he wouldn't come to find her. He was too important to the State to be at risk. He was too important to _her_.

* * *

She shivered with the intense chill of the evening. Lips nearly blue, she doubled over to warm herself all she could. It did nothing. 

The back of her shirt was ripped in long strips; the result of the cruel whippings she'd been subjected to. Beneath it, the wounds were beginning to heal. They would scar and remain as a reminder to the nights on which she refused to beg for mercy.

Her capris, intended for wear in late April, fared just as well as her shirt. They was torn just above her left knee, and were of no help to gather warmth in the month of December.

In the morning they'd scream at her again. That she didn't relish, and still, it would be another day that he hadn't come for her; that he _wouldn't_ come for her.

* * *

She had struggled for the first two months, but now found her strength waning. She had accepted her fate. She would remain here, bruised and narcotic-induced until the day they went too far on her beatings.

* * *

She woke to the slam of her door. Lifted up by her hair, she prepared herself for the newest chain of words the man would yell. But it didn't come. He was obviously fed up with words for the moment, preferring to deal his anguish on her. 

A few kicks to the shins and she was thrown to the floor in a heap.

"Why do you torment me like this?"

A rage formed inside her. How dare he ask her; when every day for the past eight months she had endured hardships beyond any she could have thought possible from such a man.

"I said answer me!"

This time the kick was aimed at her stomach.

"I-I don't know!"

She couldn't think of any possible answer. How had she tortured _him_? At this, the persecuter leaned down, forcing Winry up and pushing her against the wall.

"I need to know where Elric is! And you'll tell me!"

"Never."

He took her by the throat.

"I'm sick of your games! Tell me now or you'll die."

"That's kind of lame,"she growled, gasping for breath, "I'll die anyway."

"Would you rather naturally, or by me?"

"It doesn't matter. Kill me, and you kill your last chance of finding him. Not that I'm much of a chance…"

With a snarl, she was dropped to the ground with a thud. Just as the door was shut, she heard him bellow to the poor kitchen maid , "Boil me some damn water… and bring me something to tie her arms."

Two men in yet another room could be heard sniggering appropriately. He had been trying new things lately; finding new attempts at innducing an agony so great that she would betray him. They had all failed so far.

She lay sprawled across the floor, taking in the view of the ceiling. Her arms were tied together, then strung behind her head. The remaining rope by which she was bound had been laced rather tightly around her delicate neck. She had only to struggle; and strangle.

The water was in a small metal bowl, steaming malevolently.

Eyedropper in hand, he dipped the tip into the boiled liquid. An understanding abruptly took place between them. Winry squirmed in vain as he brought the utensil over her.

"You don't have to do this. You could just tell me where he is."

The original defiance had returned, as well as the will to suffer anything to know that he was safe. If she could have, she would have taken that will to a whole new physical level. As it was, she was in no instance to fight.

First, he let the droplets fall to her temple, letting the water burn for a minute or two, to make sure that each orb of liquid fire did not go unsuffered. Winry only stifled a slight wimper.

For an hour, he did this, bringing the water back for reboiling every ten to fifteen minutes. Minute by minute passed, and with each fading second, the guilt would swell further.

* * *

Her face was wet now, the water falling like tears, only lukewarm. They were forming a line of humidity among the red that had appeared and remained. Never did she bother to wipe them away. 

She was alone now, simply sitting in the corner, her guilt abusing her steadily. There, for the first time in eight months, she wept. She kept her sobs quiet, not wishing for her weakness to be found, but they were sobs none the less.

Winry had never once thought of crying; there was no point. But though she had gone through one infliction after another, the burns were never so great as this. Her thoughts buzzed waspishly, telling her things she already thought to be true. Over and over again, she told herself of her faults. Her mind viciously whispered the words she would not dare to say aloud, lest they be granted.

She was wrought with guilt; after all, this was nothing to what he would bear if she told anyone where he was. Disgust was recycled throughout the room. For a moment as he had tormented her, she had wished that he'd find her; save her. But what if her thoughts in that one moment mattered? What if he came…?

* * *

"Brother?" 

He gave a slight nod of acknoledgement, and resumed his point of near-sleep. Alphonse responded by sighing, pushing his foot against the relaxed form of his older sibling.

Finally losing patience, Edward crocked one eye open.

"What?"

"Where are we heading?"

"I told you, Al. We're stopping in a shitty little pit of a town, where we'll take the next shitty train to go see the shitty colonel."

He rolled over, his back to Alphonse. Ed could feel the hesitancy in the silence, and waited for his brother to form the words cautiously.

"Brother, I just… don't you think we should visit Winry and Pinako?"

"We are going to, Al. I just feel that maybe reporting to the state first is the best thing; we won't have to cut our visit short knowing that we still have to make it to Central."

* * *

_Bane; "A little short...but Chapter 2 should come tomorrow or the day after..."_


	2. Transfixation

**From What We Once Were Chapter 2; Tranfixation**

_Bane; "I'm going to say it now so it doesn't come unexpected. This chapter is very graphic. I took careful measure in describing the more disturbing areas. Nothing, to those who reacted to 'graphic', is going to be sexual. But, if you have an especially weak stomach pertaining to blood, corpses, or bodily entrails, I suggest that you either sacrifice any past interest in this story and go on your way, or continue to read, skipping the less than appetizing portions… "_

_Drumstick; "Usually we'd have something funny…but Marta died… and that wasn't funny…"_

* * *

He had left her to sit in her own pooling blood. Racking sobs shook through her at the intensity of the agony emitted from her diaphragm. Doubled over, she shook violently, tensing her muscles in an attempt to lessen the pain. Her calloused knuckle was of no comfort; she had chewed it through earlier, involuntarily masticating the skin until it was severed from the joint.

Her own thoughts were muddled, all begging for Edward to stay where he was; far away from her, lest they found him. And still, the crimson fluid that soaked her through was punishing her for her defiance. The claret was reminding her of the moment that she had selfishly wished…

Shifting slightly, the ache tripled, causing her utter a small cry.

…_Dying would be such a small price to pay now…_

…_You mustn't think that way…it destroys us…_

…_What is there left of me to destroy?…_

Her thoughts quarreled ceaselessly.

The stench of her own blood sickened Winry. The metallic bitterness was beginning to recover scraps of images; of Edward. In her mind, the rain poured once more, the knock at the door muffled, but still hearable. Al carried his sibling, pleaded for his aid… She shook her head to rid her mind of memory. Of which caused her to whimper with the coming wave of agitated wound.

* * *

Edward lay down, sighing heavily. The train seat was uncomfortable, but anything would do to rid him of fatigue.

"What do you suppose he meant when he said 'sudden happenings'?"

"Al, give it a rest."

"Why?"

"Because I need some."

Alphonse gave a slight sniff, but only prodded Ed in the stomach before continuing.

"I'm serious. I think we should find out, Brother."

Edward sat up to face Alphonse, giving him a look of annoyance. It was a moment before he spoke again, "Al, the Bastard Colonel says all sorts of things that don't make sense. And this is one of them."

He lay back down and closed his eyes, wadding up his overcoat and laying it on his face as Alphonse insisted on carrying the conversation further to indicate that he no longer wished to listen.

* * *

"_**Have you heard from Winry?" Al asked incredulously.**_

_**  
The Colonel's expression was steely, but quite unconcerned.**_

"_**I'm afraid we haven't heard from Mrs. Rockbell since February."**_

_**Ed didn't add any input, only stared off into space. He could feel something in the pit of his stomach. And the 'something' was fortelling of happenings he knew he wasn't going to find pleasant…

* * *

**_

_Bane; "For those who didn't get it; that was a flashback. I just didn't feel like labeling it, cause everyone does that…and that's not cool... for me to do it too…"_

_Drumstick and A; 0.o?_

_A; "I want a lemon! And my lemonade!" howls and whines._

_Bane; -.-' "It's coming. Eventually."_

* * *

"Pinako? Winry?" Alphonse called when nobody answered the doorbell.

Still nobody came.

So what else could they do but open it themselves? Edward watched Al push the opening slightly ajar. It was then that it hit them; the rancid, bitter fume that seeped through the long unopened doorway.

An understanding as to what lay inside hit him a fraction of a second too late. His younger sibling had already begun forward, retching slightly.

"Al, don't—"

But his reaction was a bit delayed; the full aroma had been released, and he was forced to cover his nose. His eyes streaming, he made out Al's figure in the threshold. Already he gained a better understanding of what would lie further into the house. Gently, Edward pushed him back, making his way in front of his sibling.

The sight, as well as the new burst of stench made him gag. He turned around to face Alphonse, who was still unable to see, but still craned his neck slightly.

"Al, get out."

"What is it, Brother?"

"You don't need to see this."

The boy stood his ground, "I'm seventeen. I think I can handle it."

"OUT! Do you hear me?"

"Brother…"

"DO YOU HEAR ME? OUT!"

Taken aback, he nodded. Trodding resentfully back through the threshhold, he sighed.

"And stay there."

He mumbled something like, "…not a kid anymore…" But Edward ignored him adeptly. There was only one word that made sense to him right now, and that was 'Winry'. The stairs creaked under his metal frame.

"Winry? Winry, are you there? Winry!"

There came no reply, and each room upstairs had been ransacked. It was obvious that nobody had entered the house for a good long while. Everything was on the floor, books, shelves, and drawers. Whoever had comitted to such a mess must have had time at their leisure to look for valuables.

A phone ring interrupted his thoughts, and his feet pounded as he came back down the flight of stairs to take the call, lest it be important.

Clutching the telephonse, he brought it to his ear.

"Yeah?"

"Fullmetal?"

Irritation was dripping from Edward's next words, " Yeah, it's me. What do you need, Mustang?

All the while, he watched the corpse warily. The gasp from behind informed him of his mistake; Edward instead should have been eying the doorway.

"Pinako!"

The reciever dropped to the floor with a clatter.

"Al—"

"Why—What?"

She was slumped against the far wall, dead. Her eyes would have portrayed expessions of shock and percants vacancy, had they not already decayed. Around her pooled dry crimson fluid, and the same dripped from her forhead. It had been a clean shot; she obviously hadn't had time to react.

It was nearly impossible to determine how long ago Pinako's death had occurred with his knowledge of such, but by the rate at which it was already decomposed, it must have been quite a while.

The bridge of her nose had been eaten through, and both Al and Edward were revolted to see a fly emmerge from it.

"Damn it, Al!"

Alphonse was trembling, now.

"Get out, you shouldn't have to—"

"Brother," his reply was shaky, as though he felt sick, "…What…happened?"

"NOW!"

Once he was once more alone with the lifeless corpse, it was a few moments before he realized the line was still on.

"Sorry about that. Now, what is it that you want?" His wording was tense, his wording cautious.

"What the hell was that, Fullmetal?"

"Nothing, we've just got… a few technical difficulties."

"Mmmph. Nonetheless, Fullmetal, I need to see you again in Central, difficulties or not."

Edward heard a whimper to the side and lost patience with both the Colonel and his brother, putting the phonse it its cradle with a satisfying click.

"Al, damn! What did I--- Al?"

He was kneeling next to Pinako, now. His face was wrought with feeling. Walking over to him, his fury lessened considerably. Ed lay his hand on Alphonse's shoulder.

"It's okay, Al. She's somewhere we can't go yet, that's all."

The younger boy, with much hesitation, rose his hand to touch the old woman's face. The skin was somewhat unfirm, giving into the bone at his lightest touch. As he broke the contact lightly, the ligament in the lower jaw snapped, detatching and hanging on the right side.

Alphonse jumped up, tears streaming from his eyes. He seemed quite horrorstruck

"I-I didn't mean…to…"

Edward steered Al out of the house, closing the door behind him once more. His protest sounded more like a child's now…

"Y—you can't just…just leave her there!"

"Oh yes we can."

"Brother!"

Still pushing his sibling down towards the village station, he exposed a look of unconcern in an attempt of comfort. It was not received correctly.

"Relax, Al, I'll come back and deal with it later."

"She wasn't an 'it', Pinako was a person!"

"Al, damn it! I can't do anything right now. In a week or so, we'll come back and have her properly buried. But we need to focus on those we don't know are dead."

"What- what'd you mean?"

"I mean Winry."

Guilt seemed to slowly drown the anguish, he had forgotten about Winry… Edward could tell he was looking for a way to say something that equalled a 'sorry'.

"Al, I told you to relax. We're going to figure this out."

* * *

_Bane; "As I wrote this, I was eating something of the same consistancy as what was depicted in my mind to describe the corpse…and now I feel extremely nauseous. Almost regurgitated. So I want you to know what it cost me to write this." –sticks out tongue-_

_-.-'_

_"I'm gonna' have nightmares about this stuff…actually, I bet YOU'RE gonna' have nightmares about this…"_

* * *

"Al, you mind waiting here?"

The boy nodded, and sat down in a traditionally uncomfortable chair in the lounge to wait. He hadn't spoken since they'd gotten on the train back.

Agitated, and in no mood for any formal greetings, he pushed the Colonel's door aside.

"You wanted me?"

"Yes, thank you for coming back. I know you're enjoying your time with Ms. Rockbell and her grandmother…"

Edward let this remark pass; after all, he hadn't any idea…

"But I'm afraid I need to send you somewhere other than Resemboul."

"That's a shame."

"I agree."

Silence was a luxury that even Roy couldn't afford.

"There's another outbreak of slaughter in Ishbal. I find it necessary to send you; perhaps you can settle the dispute."

"I can't."

"We'll take care of the travel costs; it shouldn't be difficult, I'm sure you can mana—"

"I can't, Mustang. It's not the travel cost."

"Then what's the problem, Fullmetal?"

"I've got something more important to settle right now."

The look of confusion was illsuited on Mustang.

"I think you forget your place. Either that, or your loyalty to the Military."

"I haven't forgotten anything. And to think that my loyalty is to the Military is a big mistake."

The man came around his desk, just so that he was now a foot away from a fuming, eighteen-year-old Edward Elric. A flash of desperation caught Roy's gaze, but it was quickly replaced by the boy's rage.

"Then I guess the mistake is mine. But turning your back on the Military isn't as easy as it seems, Full Metal."

The tension loomed heaily over them both, but Ed chose to resolve this by going at a different angle…

"Mustang, what if Hawkeye was abducted tomorrow? What would you do?"

"That's off subject."

"Just answer the fucking question."

"I'd go after my Lieutinant, of course."

"You damn hipocrit."

"Fullmetal, this has nothing to do with—"

"So if Winry has been kidnapped, I shouldn't do a damn thing about it because you would go find Hawkeye if the same thing occurred with her?"

Understanding torrented into Mustang abruptly. That would explain everything; the odd yells over the phone, the behavior of Edward… He reached out his hand towards Ed's arm in a consoling manner.

"DON'T.TOUCH. ME."

The anguish was apparent in not only his eyes now, it reverberated through his tone.

"I'm…sorry, Fullmetal. We'll try everything—"

"Drop it. I don't need your help. I don't need the Military's help. I can do this fine on my own."

He turned to leave, pausing for a moment in the doorway to fish into his pocket. The object of his search fell from his hands. Once he heard it hit the floor, he continued to make his way out.

"Comeon, Al. We're done here."

His brother followed him out into the chilled December air. And only then did the Colonel bend to pick it up, studying it for a moment. It was something he had never thought to see from the boy's possession; his silver pocketwatch.

* * *

_Bane; "I suppose I owe a brief explanation as to why it took so long for everything to come out, and a few other things I haven't yet stated… A stopped reading my fics for a while…so I lost esteem in them… a few people at school said something about my writing (oh, props for my writing esteem, let me tell you…) But now I'm writing regularly again...(I hope...)_

_Drumstick; "Bane is off of grounding until the day after Christmas, whereas it will resume for the rest of the break as planned, 'kay?"_

_A; "Yes. Meaning, she basically can't give you any fics after Christmas until about the middle of January. If it persists, then she'll have me post how long in the reviews…"_

_Bane; "I'm grounded, can you believe it? For turning a damn project assignment in 4 days after it was due…"_

_Drumstick; "Enjoy your Angst-free break, tee hee!"_


	3. Embalm

**From What We Once Were**

**Chapter 3; Embalm**

* * *

Bane; "Sorry it took so long, but hey! It's here! 3! The next one is on the way soon, don't worry."

A; "Enough! They've been waiting. Shut up and upload it."

Bane; -sniffles-

* * *

"So tell me, Bitch, why are you so damn hard to break?"

She coughed roughly, a movement that caused the deep cut wounds across her sternum to sear with webs of unceasing agony. The hacking became so fierce that she was forced to bring one hand to the gash and the other to her mouth in an attempt to stifle the wracking shudders.

Winry felt moisture on her bruised palm; a small crimson body of liquid had been emitted from her throat. With a flick of her wrist, the blood was thrown, perhaps more or less splashed, to the side.

With blue eyes aflame with defiance, she gazed into his grey listless orbituals. The look she passed on in that one moment gave him sufficient understanding as to what she would ever do to him once she had recovered. _If_ she _ever_ recovered.

The man gave her another kick to the side and left the room. Nobody came back through the threshold until nightfall; not even to deliver her usual meager meal.

* * *

"Al?"

The boy barely stirred; the window was apparently a better preoccupation than having to talk about something he knew was going to bring back the memory. Alphonse's hair was ruffled, his eyes telling of distress and fatigue.

"Al, talk to me. What's wrong?"

He shifted his gaze from the pane long enough to look accusingly at his older sibling, "You know what's wrong."

They both let out a sigh at the same time, giving them a short snicker together until the weight of the situation readjusted itself to squash their minds free of relief.

"Why are we going back to Resemboul?"

"For Pinako."

The smaller of the two shut his eyes against the covey of images and smells resurfacing from the simple mention. It did nothing to cease their now constant flow.

"What are we going to do with…the…?"

"Call the authorities, see if we can have them do an autopsy this late in the decaying process. Maybe there's some clue they left behind… maybe enough to find Winry."

* * *

"Hawkeye?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

"I need you to do something for me."

"Yes?"

"I need you to track the Elric Brothers. If they do anything… drastic, I'd like to hear about it immediately."

"Colonel, wouldn't it be wiser to simply have him report?"

"Have you ever known Fullmetal to respond _directly_ under orders, Hawkeye? Because I definitely have not."

She flushed slightly, then nodded in a formal manner.

"Thank you, Lieutinant."

She gave a barely deciphered 'you're welcome' before departing from his office. This was going to be no easy task. If she was to trace the Elric brothers, as far as she was concerned, she might as well have given up right there. Hawkeye would probably have to sprout wings to keep up with them. _Maybe_, she wondered to herself, _I should begin collecting feathers_.

* * *

He was leaning over her again, bearing the knife down to her already healing wounds. Winry was breathing heavily, attempting to keep the screams from escaping into the cruel surrounding air.

"Where is the Full Metal Alchemist?"

He was bellowing at her, now. Still trying to get answers from her as his blade met bone. The flesh at the sternum erupted with silent agony.

"You'll never find him. Never."

With the knife in hand, he dealt a blow to her face. Incidentally, he left a mark of a four inch length. The blood began to meld with her tears drop…by…drop.

"_Hello, this is the Morgue Help Line. What can I help you with?_"

"Brother? Brother, what are they saying?"

Edward placed a hand over the mouth-piece of the reciever. Al glanced at him anxiously, as though to question what was happening.

"Well, they're a bit to happy for a morgue…"

"Mmmph."

Edward just rolled his eyes and continued to speak to the overly peppy woman on the phone. Feeling his sibling shift, he sighed, turning to him. "Al," He snapped,"touch the body and we can have these guys pick you up too."

Alphonse drew back, now carrying a slightly miffed look. Of which Ed took little notice; he would live.

"Yeah, I've got a… problem."

"_Yes_?"

"Umm… this body…"

"_Yes, we are the Morgue Help Line. If it's dead, we handle it_."

"Is there any chance you could say that again with less enthusiasm?"

He heard an aggrivated sigh from the other end of the line, and found cause to roll his eyes once more.

"_So where are you and how long has the body ben lifeless? An hour, maybe two_?"

He glanced at the body a few feet off with a mixed expression of disgust and estimation.

"Umm… weeks, months even. We're not sure."

Her voice was high and unervingly strained now, " _I'm sorry, we don't handle cases as complicated as this_."

"Complicated? There's no complicated!"

"_Sir, we simply don't take on heavy tasks such as this as a morgue_."

"But you said that if it's dea—"

"_Well, yes, but… you see… we don't mean… _**that **_dead_."

"But—"

"…"

He slammed the reciever down.

"Brother? Brother, what is it?"

"The damn woman hung up on me."

Alphonse's eyes were alight with worry. He took a breath, and murmured, "So what happens now?"

"We get to play morgue."

* * *

Bane; "Next chapter should come in th next couple of days… )! So… how do you like it? Review me!"

A; "LEMON!"

Drumstick; -.-'!

Bane; "…ooookay…"

Everyone; 0.o


	4. For Love of Autopsey

**From What We Once Were** **Chapter 4; For Love of Autopsey**

_Bane; "Ummm… Firstly, I'm trying a new…uhmm…'switchy' style for the last chapter, and this one. It helps the structure of the sections if I do it like this, but if most of you find it not to your liking… I guess I could find some other way to position it…"_

_A; "I don't like it."_

_Bane; '(_

_A; -.-' "Kidding, Bane, I'm kidding."_

_Bane; 3_

_A; -.-' " Bane's…happy..." –twitch-_

_Bane; -.-'

* * *

_

_Bane; "Bane has done research on decay and the effects time has on the body; 97 of everything during the autopsey has been researched and made to fit the description. This chapter is graphic, but for the sake of my readers, has been toned down from it's originally gruesome state. None-the-less. If you are weak of stomach, we suggest you take caution."_

* * *

"What's your name again?" 

She remained silent, unwilling to satisfy his need for cruel mind games. He spoke to her as though she weren't a beaten prisoner; as though she were a person again.

"Winry, wasn't it?"

The blonde had kept her eyes averted until this point, whereas she found reason to break from the floor. Winry didn't feel that she could take any more of this, any more of being mocked, cut, bruised. She spat at him, waiting for him to wipe the stray spittle from his broad, highboned cheek. He didn't bother, only offered a half-smirk. Big Mistake. With one hand, he relieved his pocket of a butterfly knife; beautifully made, illegal, and uncannily efficient.

"So, Winry, how many things have I done to you with a blade?"

She didn't reply, only stared up coldly with a gaze that could tell of her utter distgust. He didn't scare her anymore. Nobody did.

"Okay, then answer me this; how many more things do you think I can do with this?"

He indicated to the lethal object in his palm. Winry paused for a moment, then told him exactly what he could do with it. The man smiled malevolently at her daring.

"I've got a better suggestion. I'll give you a sampler, and we'll just see if you approve."

Her silent screams of agony lasted until the next morning; whereas it was already time for the next round.

* * *

"Al, go get the shovel out of the basement." 

"Why do I have to—"

"Because I'll come back and find you prodding the jawbone again."

"But Brother—"

Edward gave him a warning glance, and Alphonse scurried downstairs. He himself made the way to the hallway closet. There, he discovered a plain white sheet. Ed carried back to the kitchen with a grin; he was sure Pinako wouldn't mind if they used it.

Riza pulled at her collar anxiously, hoping her better instincts hadn't mislead her. That's where the boys would be now, right? With Al having his body back, it was only natural that they'd go to see Winry and Pinako…

The Colonel hadn't bothered to tell her of Ms. Rockbell's abduction, though he knew nothing of her grandmother's fate. And so there she was, walking through the streets of Resemboul, unknowing of what misery she could soon stumble upon.

They had set out a collection of knives, thin, large, butcher… Yeah. They were all set. So what if they didn't have the proper tools, how hard could it be?

"Brother?"

The shovel had been placed to lean against the refrigerator. "What, Al?" came the distractedly snappish voice of Edward.

"You do know something about this, right?"

"Well… the subject kind of interested me one day, so I looked into in the library."

"And? What did you find?"

"A book…wasn't really helpful, and it _really_ wouldn't be of much help here."

"Why not? Any thing could help, Brother."

"Just trust me."

"Brother, what did it say?"

Edward let out a long sigh and grimaced.

"I only read a page… and it was the Table of Contents…"

"That can be useful. Did it list any techniques for starting?"

"Yeah. Kind of."

"Well then...?"

"Nothing we can use, though."

"Wha—why not?"

"Because."

"Brother! Tell me what the book said!"

Edward looked him in the eye, his gaze showing what seemed like hesitancy.

"I'm sorry I brought it up."

Alphonse returned a glare full of what was obviously demanding curiousity. His older sibling sighed again, and told him. Al burst out laughing.

"Touch the body. _Feel_ the body. Fu-- the body."

* * *

Without really touching it, she ran her fingers an inch over her gash. It wasn't healing right; the bruising around it didn't seem to be getting any better, and the purplish- blue swirls were becoming disheartening to look at. 

The aching continued, the pain only interrupted by her frail victories of gaining momentary slumber. She shifted slowly, as not to increase her agony, and thought about how much she would give to have the whip back again. It the past week it had been nothing but re-opening; recutting all his work. He was working at her raw and tender flesh, and weakening her way past the point of defiance now.

Winry was only waiting to die, now. She wanted simply for the tormentor to go too far; to cut too deep. The girl wished just for an end before she was thrown into a state of mind in which she would want Edward to come and find her. She hoped never again to reach that state of mind.

* * *

"So I think we should start by cutting little checker pieces out of the face, and see where that gets us." 

Al looked mortified.

"B-Brother! You… You wouldn't really—"

"Al, chill out. I was kidding. God, I mean, we're sitting next to a month-old-dead-body and you still can't take a joke!"

* * *

_A; "Sounds like someone I know."_

_Bane; -.-'_

* * *

Edward held no expression of humor as he pain-stakingly moved Pinako from the wall to the white sheet. Her lower jaw still hung limply to the side, but her nose was in even worse condition than it had been only a few days ago. 

"Brother, do… do you think that there's still blood in there…?"

"I don't know, Al, I really don't know."

The skin was, to some point marbled. At least, where the epidermus hadn't caved in. In one or two places, the ribs had broken skin, and white strips of calcium were visible.

Most of the veins could be traced due to the lack of flowing blood. In fact, the position of the body indicated as to why the legs and lower arms had a darker tinge, and a bit…fuller look to them. Hypostatis had occurred to the body, and there had been nowhere else for gravity to pull the crimson fluid… but downwards. It only took a few minutes of examination for Edward to realize this; but on a much simpler scale.

With a small vegetable knife, he cut a twomilimeter gash into one of the main channels in the lower leg. An oozing from the slight wound began; a mixture of texture and color. It was a crude mingling of claret and reddish brown. The 'fluid' was sticky, and its viscosity was strange. Under the circumstances, the body, as decayed as it was, would have been underground. The corpse would be fully decomposed, and the smell would reflect the soil around it. However, it was not underground… it was in a kitchen, reflecting its own rancid fragrance.

"That's…nice…"

Al drew back a little bit, but forced himself not to flinch. Edward simply sighed and got up. He disappeared upstairs for a few minutes before returning with a pair of tweezers.

"What are those for?"

"The bullet has to come out sometime."

* * *

She was sobbing now; trying to hold everything in- but failing miserably. It didn't matter to the man. It simply meant, to him, the days work was over. He dropped the blade to the ground, and made his way to the door. It was shut with a deafening click, and after a moment she heard him shout at one of the maids not to bring her meal that night. 

The infection at her sternum was beginning to tole on her health. And still, he cut at the wound, the already past-raw flesh burning at the lightest touch.

They had stopped inducing her with narcotics to delay and strengthen the pain later on. The tormentor saw fit to inflict as much agony as he could; he thought he could sense her will weakening, hour by hour.

Alas, his mistake. Now so close to death, her resolve had been strengthened. She would die before any information passed her lips; her dear Edward was safe.

* * *

_Bane; "Okay, the actual clues come up next chapter… and that should come out some time before the end of this week. (1/10 as of today tues.)_

_And right now, I'm a bit upset with A… so… sorry, people._

* * *

_Bane; "Umm, a couple of people mentioned how they found it humorous; the thought of the Elric brothers performing an autopsy. I would like to take the time to hug you all right now. Because yes. It is funny. Especially if you have my detailed imagination."_


	5. Clue Scroll

**From What We Once Were**

**Chapter 5; Clue Scroll**

_Bane; "Congrats! You have fed me at least 8 reviews, and so, here you go! Enjoy !"

* * *

_

Her pride had been taken from her that day; she had been made to plead for her food, now reduced to stale bagette. He had kicked her again, told her if she wanted anything, she'd have to beg for it. If it had not been for the steady ache of hunger, she would have kept her dignity. As it was, she sat in the corner of her chamber, full, but slowly slipping away with the throbbing of her ribcage.

The blade had been left as a temptation; when they knew they'd left her too weak to make her own way across the room to reach it. Too many thoughts of the knife crossed through her mind in the long forsaken hours of the night; of what she would do if she ever closed hands on it.

Winry's wish that Edward would not search for her seemed more urgent now. For her, it seemed, it would be too late, whether he came or… not. And she could not think of any worse torment than having to see the expression he would wear upon his face if—when she died.

* * *

Hawkeye passed a bar on her way down to the Rockbell's residence; Festered. It had an odd name, and whereas attracted odd people. Some were just there for a lick of alcohol, some for tastes of illegal substances, and still others for reasons they kept to themselves. It hadn't been questioned by the State as of yet for many so-called 'reasons'. One of which, or more accurately (truthfully), the only of which, was because there were tales of strange thugs that met there often. It was on a regular basis, in fact. Every Tuesday, to be specific. Even the State knew to stay out of their territory. And with their pride, it wasn't something that occurred often.

She shuddered, reminding herself that it was Sunday, but even if it wasn't… She was too trigger-happy to have really cared.

* * *

"Al, back away."

"Brother, I'm just trying to—"

"Be that as it may, Al, you're not helping; you're crowding me. Give me some space."

Dismay was set firmly into the younger sibling's face. Edward was simply cranky… but then, the task was all but invigorating.

"But…Brother, you've been working at it for a whole half-hour. What makes you think anything else you try is going to—"

Edward had been pulling at the tweezers for a good fifteen minutes. It had, due to great misfortune, gotten stuck in the attempt at removing the bullet from Pinako's well-riped cranium. With a great '_oomph_!',

The tool was extracted, along with the minutely rounded metal projectile. Edward was flung backwards, and eventually splattered with finely-perfumated 'juices' that had also been.

He might have even held an air of triumph… had he not recalled the fact that he was pulling ammunition out of a dead body. And, had he not assumed that the fragranced fluids were as ill suiting to his complexion as they felt.

"Great. Now I just need to learn to pull a rabbit out of a rotting brain, and we'll be all set."

"Brother, that's good and all… but how is this helping Winry?"

"It's helping Winry because we can track where the bullet was bought from, and hopefully we can figure out _who_ bought it."

* * *

Phone books were scattered around the reciever, now making its empty and aggrivating 'Breaaaaaaa' cry. It had been two hours since the fatal extraction, and all they had to show for it was a consistant recalling of, "I'm sorry, that information is classified." And, "What kind of bullet, did you say?"

"What do we do now?"

"Well, Pinako's not getting any older."

Alphonse was at loss of this humor, only sat against the wall, staring at her. Was this Brother's great idea of an autopsy? If so; it sure didn't match his.

There came an abrupt knock at the door. Both siblings froze, tension rising massively. "Mr Elric? Miss Rockbell?"came a muffled voice. Edward was the first to rise. He made his way to the door, almost certain that he recognized that tone…

He was slow to open the threshold at first, giving into the heavy frame's weight after a moment, letting it swing to its wide potential. At first, he was shocked by the figure that met him; Hawkeye. What could she be doing here? But that silent inquiry was quickly answered. She was there to see _them_. The shock was swiftly replaced by his short temper.

* * *

_Bane; "Short! Ha!"_

_A: 0.o?_

_Bane; 0.0…"Er… the voices… inside…my head…thought… that was…funny… I…heh…didn't…" -cough-_

_A; -.-' "Sure, Bane. Sure they did."_

* * *

"Did Mustang send you here?"

It was about this point when the rancid fumes escaped from the doorway. Edward, already used to the fragrance, was still unperturbed. Hawkeye, on the other hand, was just becoming acquainted with it. She clutched a gloved hand to her mouth and gagged, much like they had done.

"Didn't he?"

She nodded, attempting still to regain her composure. In a small measure of kindness, Edward stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind him. He could see Hawkeye breathing slightly more heavily than she had been a moment ago. _Too much for you_, _Hawkeye_? He thought to himself.

"Why?"

"His orders, Edward. The Colonel wanted me to check up on you two."

"Then be a dear and tell him to go fuck off."

Her gaze was now reproachful.

"Edward, when speaking of superiors, you'll find it's in your better interest to use some level of respect."

"He's not my superior anymore. He's just a sick bastard who's really starting to piss me off."

Her look of confusion set him to smirking. So the Colonel hadn't told her?

"What…are you implying?"

"I'm implying my resignation of the State."

The silence that then passed between them was deafening. Edward glanced up at Hawkeye, wondering what her next words would be.

"Then I need to speak with Mrs. Rockbell."

"What for?"

"The housing of you and your brother."

Edward leered at her.

"What the hell for?"

"You forget that you are still underaged. As part of the State, we had you under our supervision and responsibility. But as of now, that is no longer in effect."

"And that would mean?"

"That would mean that—"

"Brother!"

Edward stiffened, turning around to make his way back into the house. Al sat trembling beside the body, staring up wide-eyed at his older sibling.

* * *

_Bane; "Pinako twitched, sitting up. Her corpse frail, the movement was sluggish. She was awake—but far from alive…"_

_A; "Have you been watching Shaun of the Dead again?"_

_Bane; -shiver- -shifty eyes- "No." –shifty eyes-_

* * *

"Al?"

The boy didn't answer. Alphonse simply pointed at Pinako's upper jaw.

"Yes, Al. I think we've established that she's not talking."

There came a gasp from the doorway, but it was mainly ignored. Hawkeye was left to form her own conclusion. Alphonse, despairing of his older sibling's lack of observation winced as as he tilted the decaying head back. There was nothing left to do; before Ed could object, he stuck his hand further down the throat. Al fought back the traces of vomit he now tasted at this revolting sensation. His palm felt sticky, and perhaps unnaturally moist. It was another moment before his fingers met the thin, inch-long scroll.

Al's hand re-emerged, covered in unknown fluid, but grasping something even Edward hadn't noticed. A thin scrap of parchment met his gaze. Browning, tainted, and disgusting. Unrolling it, Al read aloud;

" Festered; Every Tuesday; 6:00."

Riza's eyes brightened slightly. Edward relaxed a little, and Al couldn't stop trembling.

"So, Hawkeye. You mind leaving? We've got some things to take care of."

"Yes, Edward. I do. You owe me an explanation."

Pushing her out, Edward kindly ended the conversation with a snapped, "I don't owe you anything." The door was promptly closed behind her.

"Brother?"

"Yeah?"

"Isn't there a place in Resemboul called _Festered_?"

"Yeah, it's not far from the Train Station. We've passed it a couple of times."

"So what are we going to do, Brother?"

"Well, it's Sunday. What do you say we give Pinako a proper burial? We can get some rest before Tuesday."

Al nodded, still white-faced. It would be a long while before he ceased to shiver.

* * *

_Bane; "Okay, I'm gonna' get grounded for the next month tonight. Yes, I know, I'm truly sorry. I made 3 A's and 4 B's on my report card. And my folks felt that I didn't try hard enough, so I'm going to be in exile (yes, groundage). But, while I'm off the computer, I'll hand-write a couple of chapters! And when I get back, it'd be really nice to find some reviews waiting in my inbox. " –hint!- -hint!- "And, to earn the next chapter, Maybe 10 reviews?"_

_A; "Noooo! You can't do this to me! Who else can I call?" –sob-_

_Bane; "Anyway, you got clues this chapter; and you'll get a very GORGEOUS Edward kicking down walls to find Winry next chapter. Oh, here's something nice for you to think about; a hint! Al's trembling? Yeah, that is a major spoiler for the next couple of chapters! The way he was paled after-wards, and his reaction… )!"_

_Drumstick; "Ooooh. This might get interesting."_

_Bane; "And by the way, I love everyone who reviewed. But I just wish to comment on something. Now this is just an observation; I still luv you all. But, a lot of you focused more on my requirement of 8 reviews than the actual reviewing of the story. I seriously want to know what you think, but it feels good to know you go nuts waiting for the next chapter. I love when you people tell me stuff you liked or didn't like about each chapter. Is there something you really liked and wanted to point out? Did I do something wrong with the sections? What did you think was funny? What do you think will happen next? Did one of the characters say something you thought was weird? Is my style okay, or is there something else, some new connection you'd like to see? HOW MUCH(or WHAT) WOULD YOU DO FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER? All of these things, I love to hear from my reviewers (and more). So review. Make an authoress happy!"_

_A; "I sure wouldn't do much."

* * *

_

_Bane; "As a side-note, Anime-Lover-95, thanks. A and I have settled our dispute over a phone conversation. Your help was greatly appreciated."_


	6. Once Being

**From What We Once Were**

**Chapter 6; **

Bane; "Okay, I'll cut you some slack; here's the next chapter!" –hugs nice reviewers- -gazes lovingly at the 9 WHOLE reviews she received-

A; "There is referance to a flashback. When it becomes time for a flashback, Bane always puts it in _italics and **bold**_. **_Amazing, eh_**?"

Bane; "There are somethings you should watch out for; further description of torture, language, someone who becomes mildly disturbed, and…of course…mutilation (hey, it wouldn't be me writing if there weren't any of this!). As well as a VERY gorgeous chibi and his astoundingly hot-headed temper. Oooh. Aaaah. But no description of rotting corpses. So have fun."

* * *

"I see you've been favoring your breast-bone."

She spit at him, but being at an odd angle against the wall, she missed her mark. Still, a gesture was worth its weight in words.

"I'm sorry to hear that perhaps we cut… too deeply, too often. I really do hope we didn't damage anything… permanently."

Winry scoffed, something that might have had effect had she not had to pause in order to release wracking coughs. The infection was worsening. It was now even obvious to her tormentor, a fact she loathed severely. As though reading her very thoughts, the man clutched her throat and pulled her upward. Winry gritted her teeth and winced with the sudden movement. He noticed, no doubt.

"So I'm going to ask you once more; where is the Full Metal Alchemist?"

She laughed now, ignoring the blistering ache that bubbled as she did so. The sound trilled, filling the room with her soft jubilee.

"You don't get it, do you? I'm dying."

She indicated the vertical gash across her sternum.

"It doesn't matter what you do to me anymore; you made a mistake by ever putting the knife to flesh."

It was his turn to chuckle; not soft or pleasant, but hoarse and cruel. One more reason to despise him.

"Oh, but my dear girl, it does matter. You see," with firm fingers he gripped her throat tighter, "We have the modern marvels of antibiotics. It matters, because we can cure that little drawback any time we feel like it. It just remains their now because it just so happens that… I don't quite feel like it yet."

Blindly, she struggled. The agony that struck through her sternum was intolerable, but his words stung worse still; the laced digits across her neck burned a new memory of true pain. In response, he lowered one palm, laying it across her chest and applying pressure to an already over-sensitive wound. Her futile attempt ceased at once, as did her breathing. Winry gasped, trying to regain the wind that had been knocked from her. She collapsed onto the wall, falling once more in an akward position.

The man knealt beside her, making an eye contact she dared not refuse.

"How do you feel right now?"

Her glare told all.

"Bet you would just like it all to fade away, right?"

Now he had her attention; her mind caught on his every word. She couldn't help but nod feebly.

"I can do that. I can make it all fade away."

Tears were running down her cheeks now, webbing from her eyes in plea of mercy. How could he do this to her? How could her offer her the one thing she had wanted since the beginning of the eight months?

"Please, don't…just…don't…"

"I just need one thing in order to do that, Winry. I just need one thing."

"Just don't… leave me be, I can't give it to you… I…just…don't…"

"I just need you to tell me where he is. I know he told you. My men were tracing him, and they were too ignorant to over hear him. Winry, I know he told you where he was going the last time he left Resemboul. All you have to do is tell me…"

Winry drew back, wishing she could simply meld into the wall and disappear.

"You need to tell me where he is…"

"Or what?"

"Or it never fades away; we cure you."

She shook her head, pushing away from him against the wall. She doubled over, her hands on her ears. Silent tears once more fell to the floor. Winry simply rocked back and forth, muttering, "He told me so… he told me… can't tell you… he told me so…"

The man left for a moment, returning with something minute, which he gently placed in his pocket. He walked back over to her, knealing beside her.

"So are you going to tell me?"

She didn't answer, only shook her head slowly, again and again, and continued to sob. She couldn't take this anymore. Everything had been going so well; another few days and she'd have been gone. He'd have been safe; far from Resemboul.

Winry felt strong hands force her to open her mouth as the man reached once more to his pocket. A fifth of a pill was jutted down her throat with unecessary force, just enough to keep her alive. The dose was sufficient antibiotics to restrain the infection. Like a variable in a science project.

The man left her to her corner, knowing that the girl would break soon enough. She had to; nothing but what he wanted could have saved her.

* * *

"So I figure, they kill her, and they put the scroll in her mouth… hoping someone would come and find it."

The floor around him was covered in papers; crudely drawn maps of the town, transmutation circles for different purposes, and a grocery list for all the supplies they would need to save Winry. There weren't getting much headway on theories…

"So you're saying gravitational forces pulled it downward into the throat?"

"Yeah." Edward confirmed, proud of this new possibility.

"But why would they kidnap someone, and then leave a clue telling us where to find them?"

"I know. That's what bothers me. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless they targeted Winry for a _specific_ reason."

"And what would that be, Brother?"

"Bait, Al."

"Bait for what...—who?"

It took only another moment for Alphonse to catch on.

"Oh…Then…if Winry's bait… what should we do? We can't play into them...can we?"

"Not yet. We need to add gunpowder to our grocery list first."

* * *

"Sir, I understand that the Elrics are wading into something they can't handle."

"And what would that be, Lieutinant?"

Her response was somewhat irrelevant, or so it seemed, but the Colonel didn't seem to notice.

"Did you know that Mrs. Rockbell had passed away, Mustang?"

"No, I was not informed. Though, I suspect that Fullmetal was."

"Yes. Infact, the two were probing the surface of Forensic science."

"You mean…"

"Mmm-hmm. And they found something within the corpse."

"Oh? What might that have been?"

"I'm not sure, Colonel. I managed to glimpse it; perhaps a scrap pf paper… It had wording apon it."

"Did you catch that wording?"

"Yes, Sir, I did."

* * *

"I'll be back in a minute, Brother."

Edward nodded distractedly, busy loading something with too much gunpowder. They'd been creating mini-bombs with gunpowder and gasoline packets that burst and sparked on impact. The explosives had been affectionately been given nicknames; rupts.

The days had flown by, barely giving the time to rest and prepare. He had only another hour or so before Festered would most likely be blown apart in his search for Winry. He worried of the damage she might have suffered, and how those responsible for all this could have had dozens of thugs involved. He clicked the pouch closed…

Al heard a cacophany over the running water of the sink. Figuring Brother had managed to do something wrong with the tempermental powder again, Alphonse continued what he was doing.

He had taken a shower and washed his hands numerous times, but the smell… the bittersweettang of decay still lingered. Alphonse had taken to washing his hands often in an attempt to soak the smell away when the nauseous feeling became too much to bear. By the time he turned the knob off, his fingers were an angry red. And if you took the time to notice, they were hot to the touch as well.

Upon opening the door, he found a very aggrivated Edward, face coal black. His brair had an off-fragrace to it. And after a moment, Alphonse recognized it; burnt hair.

"Nice look for you, Brother."

Edward simply grumbled something that sounded like, '_gonna' take a shower._' Alphonse didn't reply, simply walked downstairs and submerged himself in the stench he had come to loathe.

He didn't hate it only for the way it's foulness made him wince, though, that had some role to play as well. It was something that went further; that tainted memory. Pinako had been such a proud woman. And yet, her pride never kept her from wisdom, nor clear thinking. Although Alphonse had never given it much thought, subconsciously, he figured she'd pass away in just as thorough dignity as in which she had lived. She would have been honored by a coffin, a funeral, and proper burial… not just two boys putting something rotten in the earth.

The woman he had once known hadn't deserved this. Any of it. It wasn't equivelant exchange; it wasn't…fair.

* * *

Edward ran his fingers through his hair, now back to its soft hay-color. It only took another moment to wash the black off of his face. Once clean, however, he didn't get out… not right away. The boy just stood beneath the warm water, letting it flow over his shoulders. Thoughts ran through his mind; forcing him to dwell in memories long since forbidden to his conscience.

_**The station was barren, and the rain was brutal. It fell in sharp needles that stung continuously. The graying sky was unperturbed by the misery brought by his departure. But the sky was alone in this. Alphonse had taken an earlier train, unwillingly. Edward stood alone beside a distraught Winry. Her words were shrill and soft, barely rising above the harsh pattering of the rain.**_

"_**Leaving again, so soon?"**_

"_**Yeah…"**_

"_**But--…you've only just---" **_

_**She had tears in her eyes. Still fighting to keep him from catching glimpse of this, she turned away in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. He wasn't fooled. With one sudden movement, Edward embraced her tightly from behind. **_

"_**Why are they after you anyway?"**_

"_**They think we have more information on the stone than anyone else."**_

"_**And do you?"**_

"_**No, Winry. I don't."**_

_**She was sobbing now, trying to hold it all in. Edward turned her around, letting her loop her arms around his neck; to cry into his shoulder.**_

"_**I want you to stay in all you can—"**_

"_**So y-you admit it?"**_

"_**Admit what?"**_

"_**That leaving isn't going to solve anything? That it isn't going to keep us safe?"**_

_**He sighed, feeling slightly guilty at the passing notion of how he loved the way she wept; like soft, gently drizzling raindrops. Only she could make him love the rain. **_

"_**Win, you've got to get this; everyday I stay here, I risk my life. And everyday that I risk my life, I risk Al's everything. His chance at…being what he was before…it… it isn't getting any farther with me staying here. Winry, I have to leave. For Al."**_

"_**Pinako says w-we might have to leave soon. Or th-that we should prepare for the worst."**_

"_**She's right."**_

_**Winry pushed away then, wishing to look directly into those golden eyes she had come to love…**_

"_**B-but we… we can't leave!"**_

"_**Why not?"**_

"_**Because," She choked, tears making fresh trails of down her paled face, "It's home Edward. It's something you obviously don't understand anymore." **_

_**There was no possible way to make her understand how much this was hurting him. How much—her freshest words were searing at his guilt. He cupped his hands around her face swiftly, holding her there as much he wanted to run away himself. **_

"**_Winry, these guys will do anything for that stone. As soon as I leave, I want you to head back home. They can't know that you have any relation to me. They will _**NOT** _know, do you understand? Stay safe. If you need me, call the Bastard of a Colonel Mustang, and he'll tell you any information you need to reach me. I'm heading North. We've heard of strange miracles and occurances there. Don't tell anyone this information, you hear?"_**

"_**I'll die before I say anything Ed."**_

_**He never once suspected that she meant it in its literal sense. Or he might have said something--anything-- to make her take back those seven little words.**_

_**The train roared along the tracks, bringing withit a foreboding aura of loss.**_

"_**My…train…"**_

"_**Oh."**_

_**He leaned forward, daringly placing a chaste kiss upon her delicate lips. And without another word, he boarded the car, pleased to see that she was smiling. **_

_**Winry returned home just as Edward had asked, heart lifted by something anew. Something headed North; far away from her.

* * *

**_

Her eyes traced the blade's slender edge motionlessly. With a slight push, she neared herself closer to the object. Winry wished to feel it within her grasp. Another few painful scooting along the wall and she closed two fingers over the sleek blackwood handle. It's presence in her palm made her skin tingle dangerously. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Edward shut the tap off, taking his time to exit the shower. He then reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Ed's broad chest glistened with water, hair tangled and unbound.

He hated Tuesdays.

Alphonse could be heard gagging downstairs; they hadn't figured out any methods of ridding the house of its stench. And none of them had even begun to work. Febreeze was no exception; breezes weren't good enough, they needed a windstorm.

It only took a moment to get dressed and find his way back to the table on which he'd been working,

"Brother?"

"Yeah, Al?"

"How many rupt pouches do we have? I mean, enough for us to get Winry out of—where ever she is?"

"Us? Al! You're. Not. Coming."

Alphonse's face fell, and he glared reproachfully at his older sibling.

"Brother! That's not fair and you know it!"

"Tell me what's not fair, Al?"

His temper was rising.

"I've proved to you that I can fight on my own. You don't have to treat me like a child!"

"I'm not treating you like a child! I'm treating you like ahuman being!"

This silenced the younger of the two, causing him to stop and think over these harsh new words. But before he could fully digest them, Edward had begun to speak once more.

" You're not metal anymore, Al. I don't care what you think of it, but you're not. You're HUMAN. And that means you could die in so many different ways. That is something I'll never risk again, Al. Never."

"That doesn't mean tha—"

"Oh yes it does. You're staying here."

"You make it sound like being this way again is the worst thing that could've happened to me."

"Because, Al. Sometimes I wonder whether I ever did the right thing by showing you what pain is again. Sometimes I wonder whether you're really happy like this."

To this, Alphonse couldn't answer. He'd often wondered this himself.

"So… You're going to stay here, understood?"

Al nodded feebly. Edward snatched the rupts from the table and pocketed them swiftly. He called a back on his way to the door, "Winry'll be with me by the time I come back."

* * *

Bane; "Whoooooheee! Tension!"

A; -giggles-

* * *

It was just beginning to darken as he made his way through the urban streets. Edward's pace was quick and forced; as though he couldn't get to his destination swiftly enough. Which was, perhaps, the case.

When at last he was within sight of Festered, Edward absent-mindedly reached down to check his pocketwatch. The emptyness of the area it used to have preoccupied gave him an odd feeling, one he couldn't sort out between a pang of gloom, or a twinge of relief. He needn't have bothered, however; it was 5:52.

* * *

The Colonel himself had come with the squad-group. This was obviously something of general importance. Lieutinant Hawkeye sat beside him, silently reviewing what she had seen of the Elric brothers earlier. Maes just smiled to himself, perfectly content to gaze out the window and flick through some of his more recent pictures of Elysia.

"So, what do you intend to do when we arrive, Sir?" Havoc spoke up, unsure of the situation. Rury listened intently, eyes wide. The remaining dozen military combatants stayed in silence, 'enjoying' the train ride wordlessly.

Roy had prepared well. He had no idea what they would find in Resemboul. But there was no doubt in his mind; he was going to find out.

"We're going for a drink, men."

* * *

She shook with cold. And yet, Winry barely even noticed, reflecting on that one moment…

"_**I'm back, Auntie!"**_

_**There was a shuffle from the kitchen. Winry, being her inquisitive, unhesitant self, made her way to the source. As soon as she saw them, the world might has well have stopped. At least, she did. Pinako was against the wall, shivering and staring wide-eyed at four men, armed and ready. **_

_**She knew what this was about. One of them gave her a satisfied look, but the assailant beside him was obviously unsettled.**_

"_**Do we take both of them?"**_

_**The first retorted,"Nah. If he comes back, he'll want something to remember us by." With that, he shot one round, directly into Pinako's forhead. Crimson splattered the window behind her. The stately woman slumped against the counter, her gaze unreadable.**_

_**Nobody was remotely perturbed by a scream, and a thud of knees collapsing to the floor. Sobbing reverberated through the room. **_

"_**Thom, why don't you do the honors?"**_

_**Two went to grab her, and through the blur of her tears she wrenched from their grasps. With one blow, someone fell to the ground. Another kick, and she grinded another into the wall. It took only a few moments after for her arms to be twisted behind her. She fell to the ground with a distant crash. Winry felt a hard strike to her side, rendering her near useless for revolting. **_

"_**Marcus, I want you to stay behind and find somewhere to place this. Make sure it'll be found."**_

"_**Sure thing."**_

_**Something changed hands, but due to her position, she was unable to see what. Winry felt cold fingers press against her neck, searching for just the right spot… They paused, for a moment, in which she attempted to draw back. The pressure met the vein without fail, however. Her mind dissolved sluggishly into an abyss, drawing her slowly within.

* * *

**_

The air was warm once he entered the bar. He remained in the doorway, disliking the new smell of smoke and beer. He quickly found a seat at the counter.

Edward glanced around behind him periodically, nervous as to when…someone…would show up. Even in his vigilant caution, Ed jumped as the bartender leaned over to speak to him.

"We don't get many young folk 'round here any more."

"I don't plan on being ' round here' much longer, I assure you."

The man was weedy and had only two tufts of graying hair atop his head. Nose crooked, he gave off an aura of great dislike for anyone who didn't drink liquor. Or so it would seem. The bartender cheked his watch briefly, glimpsing at the doorway for a moment.

"You best be off, now."

"Sorry, I've got some business to attend to at 6:00."

"I don't know what that could be, but best to take my advice and go."

Edward gave the man a sharp look, as though he didn't know what he was talking about, and didn't particularly care.

"Why are you so anxious for me to leave?"

The bartender glanced around shiftily and replied in a raspy whisper.

"Men come 'round that time once every week. You don't want to be here when they do."

"Why not?"

"'Cause they have awful…tendancies."

Now Edward was interested.

"Like what?"

"Dragged someone out of here last time. Didn' try to stop them, of course… too afraid it'd happen to me."

"Was that the first time?"

"Nah. And that won't be the last."

"Sorry, but I'm not leaving."

"Suit yoursel—"

The door flew open, and in walked someone Edward knew had to be the one he was meeting. Far from the numerous 'men' the bartender had spoken of, there was only one. Though, he was sinister enough, with long black hair and disconcerted stubble of a beard. He sat down in a booth, lit a ciggarette, and puffed.

With impatience, Edward stood and sauntered over to this new stranger. It simply took the short bang of his auto-mail arm against the table to catch the man's attention.

"You come here every Tuesday?"

Edward's victim gazed up lazily and offered a husky, "Yeah, kid."

"Then my name's Edward Elric. And I think you have something of mine."

The man's eyes widened momentarily, before he smirked, eyes alight with cold anticipation.

"Good. The boss'll know what to do with you."

* * *

The intercom's message caused the military squad to shift uneasily, '_You are now nearing Resemboul. Please enjoy your stay.'

* * *

_

_Bane; "Okay. It's long, like I promised, but no Winry. Not yet. It got… too long, let's say. Next time, I promise. You can prank me with flames next chapter if I don't have them. Oooh! And a nice confrontation with the military is in order. Ooooh! Aaaah!"_

_A; "Nasty cliffy, Bane. I think some of your reviewers aren't gonna' be happy about that."_

_Bane; -starts packing to run off to Canada- 0.0!_

_Drumstick; "You can't move to Canada!"_

_Bane; "Why not?"_

_Drumstick; "'Cause they make fun of Canadians!"_

_Bane; "They do? Oh…yeah. Can someone explain that? And what's with all_ _the Alabama jokes? I don't get those either. (I live in Georgia, Atlanta, for further explanation!) I'll hug the first person who can explain the reason of these jokes."

* * *

_

_Bane; "By the way, I luv' you all so much, that I've decided to quit having review requirements for the rest of the story unless you ALL quite reviewing. Deal?" –!hugs!-_


	7. Interchange

**From What We Once Were **

**Chapter 7; Interchange**

_Bane; "ooookay! According to one of my fantastic reviewers, (and a repremand from our dear A), I have succumbed to the realization that… in the world of FMA, there is no such thing as Europe."_

_-sob-_

_"So, instead, he will have gone a few hundred miles to the North."_

_A; "Much better."_

_Bane; "Yeah. Sure. Anyway, a lot of people must think that Winry is all better. Well she's not."-giggle- "The infection has only been _**temporarily subdued**_."_

Bane; "I'd like to take the time to point out; a lot of people _also_ thought I'd have Winry committ suicide and kill the pairing. I dunno'; see for yourself. I mean," –goofy grin- "- you have a whole chapter to read to answer these stray questions."

* * *

Bane; "Bane got 12 reviews for her last chapter. Ahahhaaa!" –hugs everyone- "I love you guys soo much. I read my last few chapters… and I don't really like them, though. Sooo, after I finish everything else, I'll go back and revamp everything. Sound good?"

* * *

The finished handle tingled on her skin, giving her a wide train of thoughts. Winry turned the blade over and over in her hands, waiting. She had absolutely nothing but time. 

The minutes melded into hours, and she hardly noticed the sharpening ache of her sternum. They had neglected to give her any forced doses. After all, she was doing better… and she was oh so close to breaking, they thought.

* * *

At first, they stepped out into the chilled night air. Edward expected that everything would be fast-paced from there, but the man leisurely checked his watch. To the alchemist's disdain, the stranger proceeded to fish another cigarette out of his back pocket, lighting it with a sigh. 

"The first puff's always the best." He mused to nobody in particular as he inhaled an eased breath of sickening fume. Edward was not amused, and he shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. Of course, words never really were much of a problem for the vertically challenged teen.

"You can smoke later. Let's get on with it."

The man glanced at him serenely. Another glimpse at his watch, and he shook his head.

"Another five minutes to kill."

"Are you such geeks that you have nothing to do all day but plan at what time I would arrive?"

This earned the boy a smirk, which he thoroughly loathed.

"Among other things. But it's all timed."

Amber was alight with confusion.

"What's all timed?"

"Well, see," he started, turning to breathe a stale stench into the face of the unfortunate prodigy, " We've set it all up. If I don't get back by half past, they'll know something's up. Which is why I always leave the party early."

His reference to 'the party' was obviously his view of their usual Tuesday night tyrades.

"Besides, the boss likes to have advice on what techniques to use next."

Edward's expression had darkened considerably. He wasn't completely sure whether or not he understood; but he had a pretty good idea. Barely taking the time to think, he slammed the man against the outer wall of the pub, eyes tense and flashing with unsubdued fury, and hand tangled in the shirt collar by which he was pinning him.

"If you hurt her, I swear to God, I will—"

At this, the stranger began to laugh shallowly. The boy's grip loosened slightly, and he let the man push him off. One more puff on the ciggy, and he dropped it to the ground, crushing it in a mutual emphasis measure.

"Listen, Buddy, looks like you need to get your priorities straight. You're just lucky we didn't kill her. Though… we almost did at one point. Heh, Boss got sort or careless…"

If he'd known Edward better, he'd have known to duck. As it was, the boy placed a well-aimed barring arm to the chest. The man found himself once more against the wall.

"What the _hell_ did you do to her?"

There was incoherant mumbling, and then a caught breath as Edward applied more force with his automail arm.

"You see this?"

With his glance he indicated the steel limb. The man was lightly wet with perspiration, and he nodded with a renewed hint of enthusiasm.

"She made it for me. And whenever I happened to bust it, she'd beat the shit out of me with a wrench."

The man scoffed slightly.

"But you know, the beating, as of now, doesn't seem that bad. And I'm sure I could find a whole new way to implode my wiring while I shred your ribcage."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Edward was fueled by violent rage, while fighting inwardly to keep himself from using the man as his new autopsey victim.

"So what'ya say? Enough of these games; take me to her now, got it?"

Edward backed off, taking only a couple of steps before glaring back to see if he was following. After that, though, Ed would have been surpirsed if he hadn't been.

* * *

She fought to control the shaking of her hand, situated behind her back. The door clicked open, and he emerged, just as forboding and menacing as before. 

Winry failed to hide the smirk on her face.

"Perhaps we're doing something…wrong…if you're smiling."

He revealed his own smirk. The kind that could only say, 'I know something you don't know'. Winry knew at once that she didn't at all like that look, that malicious concealment. With a short, jerky movement, she rose to her feet. Her hand remained behind her back in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. But her stance was shaky, weakened by pain and illness. Adreneline pumped through her veins, but she didn't need for the world to come into a frightening focus. She needed all this to disappear. All of it.

And with this knife, she had the power to do that; for once, she could play God instead of her tormentor. Oh, how she would love that. And she would relish the look on his face until the day she died…

Almost as if on cue, he turned around, speaking in his deeply inclined tone.

"Marcus hasn't—"

His words melded into the air around her, their meanings floating past her mind in distant buzz. With all the time in the world to spare, she brought the knife over her head. Clasping the handle with tightly laced digits, Winry readied herself for the downward plunge. Another moment and she stepped forward. As she inhaled one final breath, she brought the blade down in an arch…directly aimed between the man's shoulder blades…

* * *

-1- (scroll down to bottom to receive special distraction inside!)

* * *

The man led him into deep underbrush; apparently this 'facility' was hidden by some main forest-like area. Though it was very nigh to the bar, it couldn't have been seen by the casual passerby. 

"The name's Marcus, by the way… I figure you ought to know, seeing as—"

The prodigy only bothered to flash him a disconcerting leer and grumble flatly, "Frankly, I really don't care."

There was silence between them for a moment before Edward spoke again. It was blunt and rather forceful, but the boy was sure this 'Marcus' wouldn't take any notice.

"Why do you need the stone in the first place?"

At this the stranger flipped back a strand of greasy hair and gave an appreciative smile. It was, naturally, crooked and yellowed.

"Good to know you already know what this is about. Makes my job so much easier. As for the reason? Well, I know it's for the boss. Imean, it's pretty vague… I'm probably the only one with the faintest of outlines—"

"That doesn't answer my question."

Marcus shrugged placidly.

"It's not really what he needs, I guess. But he always wanted to make some sort of amendment for the Ishbalan War."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he took pride in his aid for the fall of the 'Military Dogs.' Though he had no preferance to which beliefs would reign."

"So the soldier has regrets…"

"Not at all."

Gold flashed with inquiry. He stood still, breaking their pace. It was a moment before Marcus, too, came to a halt.

"The 'soldier', as you put it," The man paused and smirked, determined to add some emphasis, "Has decided he wants to finish the job."

* * *

Her tormentor stepped forward, letting her clumsily miss her mark. She fell with the momentum, and crashed to the ground. The dull thump rang in the barren room. How graceful… 

It took only a few seconds for Winry to recover from the slip, and she made a desperate grab for the blade, which had fallen from her hand. A dulled chuckle escaped the man, who had pivoted to face her.

"You're a bit off timing, you know."

His foot found her frail hand with ease, and he applied pressure onto his leg. He didn't hear any reaction; his aged boot crushed the brittle bones with a satisfying _crunch_. Winry let forth a whimper, and attempted to clench together a palm that was no longer linked.

Kneeling curtly, shoe still firmly implanted onto her fist, he smirked.

"Would you like to know exactly _why_ you're off timing, Winry?"

She didn't respond, which didn't really surprise him. Instead, she attempted to twist her crushed hand back. He applied more weight, making her cry out.

"Because, either Marcus has inexplicably lost his accountability over that last twenty-four hours, and forgotten how to work a phone, or someone's come to Resemboul. I think you'll recognize him."

She froze. She invisioned Edward, just as he had been before he had left. But something anew lit into her eyes. They were going to kill him. They were going to shoot him through just as they had done to Pinako before.

* * *

"I don't suppose you saw a short blonde. He was probably suited in all black with a red overcoat, and he has a prominent lack of anger control." The Colonel's lip curled into a smirk at his last words; it felt good to say what he thought of the boy's patience out loud. 'Amusing', yes, that was the word. 

The bartender thought for a moment before responding.

"Saw someone that matched your description…but he didn't have a temper, if that's what you mean. At least, I didn't see any signs of one. In any case, though, he was right stubborn! I told him the man would come—he always does, see, but the kid wouldn't leave."

Mustang turned to face Riza, sided by Maes.

"Well?"

Lieutenant Hawkeye merely shrugged, while Hughes smiled distantly and replied, "I think, Roy, that if the man said 'stubborn', we pretty much found our link."

Again, the Colonel confronted the bartender, being pointed in the direction of a wood area—not too far off.

* * *

His pleasure in her shock was what made it so difficult. He watched her; eyes alight with amusement. Winry wouldn't cry, he already knew that…but he also took into consideration that escape would resound infinitely on her mind, now. Yes, this one held evidence of self-sacrifice. Damn hard to break, and damn easy to predict. 

She shook with silent thought as his penetrating gaze moved about her quivering muscles.

"You can't hurt him—"

"I think there's a difference between what I '_can't_' and '_will_' do."

She was like a rabbit now, caught and wounded within hopeless tangles of barbwire. The steel vice would lead her to some escape… somehow. He noted the fleeting glance she spared him, and began a mental countdown…

…It took less time than he anticipated for her to circle around him, limping hurriedly to the door. She hadn't even closed a damp palm about the knob by the time he had grasped her crushed hand. Mercilessly, he clamped it within a tightening clutch. He waited until she cried out before he acted with one swift movement, and she was thrust back into the wall onto which she had only just been leaning.

"Come, now. I'm sure you'd disappoint Elric sorely if you were to leave so soon."

She shook her head, trying to find some way to free herself; to warn Edward… She was woken from her distant panick by a harshly placed blow. Her wind was replaced by a violent strike to the stomach. Winry sank to the floor, sliding against the wall. She felt a boot sole against her throat, and knew what position her tormentor had shifted to. The captive winced slightly, but didn't bother to open her eyes. She clutched her middle in a feeble attempt the cease the ache. He pushed down with his foot further, squeezing the breath out of her throat.

She gasped and fought down a wave of hacking, shaking roughly from the irritation in her sternum. And yet, as she began to lose consciousness, the threshold flew open, and there stood another of his men, a smug grin plastered onto his unruly visage.

"Hey, Thom? He's here."

She slipped into darkness; a sheath of black guilt wrapping itself about her in rings of eternal worry.

He had kicked down the door; without any real need, for it had been unlocked. Marcus, however, hadn't bothered to stop him.

Edward was met with the barrels of four rifles. Each was carried by a man who had obviously known better days.

"I'm just passing through."

The prodigy took no mind to the tension, and stepped forward, viewing the facility with a sharp eye. They were in a run-down laboratory, and corridors led off onto either side. A table lay forgotten in the corner, cards discarded haphazardly onto its surface. Crates clearly held the role of chairs, though there were few of them.

He was taking it casually, feeling that there was no rush to beat the shit out of them. But the click of a pistol behind him brought him directly out of that state of mind. Turning his head to glance, he caught view of Marcus, smirking. His aim was at the nape of the neck.

"I don't suppose I have to tell you to turn around real slow with your hands on your head?"

The boy only offered up his own grin.

"And I don't suppose I have to tell _you_ that I didn't come unprepared?"

Edward stomped down his foot, startling the man into jumping the trigger, and ducking backwards just at the right moment. The projectile hit hard into the farwall. Ed muttered humorously, "Just remember; you started it."

Unhesitatingly, he closed hands around a rupt at his belt. It was promptly thrown at their feet. In the blast's confusion, they failed to notice the flash of blue light… Coming forward with two strides, he landed a crescent kick into soft, fleshy face. Four to go.

Gunfire went off, and a dull twinge settled itself just below his hipbone. Edward winced, and jumped above the aim. Coming down into a hard stomp above the assailant, he brought him to the ground, of which he would be sticking to for quite a while…

A three-sixty twisting blow left the second unconscious.

"So I guess it's just you and me, huh, Marcus?"

The man opposite to him gave a sleek, yellowed grin. Abruptly, however, his expression contorted into one of anguish at the blurring _crack_ of a firearm. (For lack of better sound effect.) He sank to his knees, falling backwards in a crumpled position.

Marcus's absence revealed a placid being. A reddened scar ran along his neck, and his shoulders were held high; posture fixated. Oh yes, this one was one of military stance. He held in his hand a modern revolver, still loaded.

Edward paid little attention; nothing mattered anymore, only Winry… "Where is she?" he snarled through gritted teeth.

"I'm afraid that she's…resting up…to meet you."

"Yeah," He spat, "I'm so sure."

_Maybe if I run forward—I can get too close for range…_he pondered hurriedly. With one swift movement, he side-stepped the man, coming in two strides further in his attempt to avoid fire. There was a shot, and Edward staggered. He collapsed backwards onto the foor with a thud. Shoulder spewing claret fluid consistantly, he attempted to back away. Thom, however, was quick to catch up with his pained gliding.

The man smirked as he aimed nonchalantly at the boy's heart. _So that's is_, _I guess…_ Ed thought fleetingly; too dazed to react, _And for what_?

He jumped, as abruptly the doorway burst open. A flash of light and cacophany of sound erupted, and the tormentor was no longer hovering above him. Colonel Roy Mustang in all his pretentious glory remained a few feet away, pistol in hand, still steaming. Considerable numbers of military personel made their way tersely through the doorway.

A hand was offered to him, and he, with hesitation, took it. Once at his feet, he took a moment to regain his composure. His gaze shifted about each figure and his expression was somber; tinged with a rage even they hadn't witnessed. Throwing a nasty glance at the Colonel, Edward strode wordlessly down one of the corridors. He walked slowly, listening at each passing door for breathing. Mustang watched him disappear into one of the rooms, and proceeded to turn away. He took a seat on a crate, and sighed heavily.

"Sir, don't you think we should follow to make sure the boy doesn't get into any more trouble—"

He didn't even bother to look up as he blatantly replied mid-sentence, "The way I see it, Lieutenant, it's going to be a lot more trouble if we follow him. I propose keeping my ears for the next hour. You wait and see."

He hadn't prepared himself to see her like this; crumpled against the far corner. She was doubled over, bruised abundantly, and letting out shallow gasps. She was still unconscious.

"…Winry?"

There was no reply. Edward neared her, kneeling beside her with little pause for thought. "Winry…can you hear me?" He shook her shoulder gently, completely forgetting the pain in his own.

Still receiving no results he allowed his lips to curl into a gentle smile. Leaning forward, he planted a chaste, gentle kiss atop her forhead. He drew back slowly and watched in silence as she stirred.

"Good morning, Winry."

Edward gazed into fluttering blue as she woke. The eyes held sentiment, but recognition within.

"You came…"

He nodded once, taking her hand as he did so.

"Yeah. Comeon, we need to go."

Still watching her, he was somewhat startled to see tears begin to brim. …Tears of…joy…surely? But no; it was evidently anguish.

"It's okay now, Winry, I'm going to get you out of here—"

She attempted to rise to her feet, but found no more strength to do so.

"No! Th-They'll—just like—j-just like Pinako…"

He wiped away her tears sluggishly, taking his time. "They're dead, Winry. They're not going to do anything to me...or you." Edward observed her as she took in this new piece of information.

"D-Dead?"

"Yeah."

Winry closed her eyes, releasing a sigh of relief. When it became apparent that she had no intent of opening them, or rising to her feet, Edward closed one arm around her knees from underneath. The other, he placed about her waist. She gave a little whimper of protest, but he guessed that it was due to the fact that she had no more strength to beat him with a wrench as he did this… Lifting her easily, he emerged from the room, a lathargic and barely lucid Winry in arms.

* * *

Edward was confronted at once by the Colonel. Glowering loathingly was obviously not a suitable enough repelant. 

"It wasn't your fight, Mustang."

Obsidian pierced through his rage.

"That's where you're wrong FullMetal."

"How am I _wrong_, then?"

Edward fought not to swear at his former superior.

"That is what, you'll find, we need to discuss in Central."

With a downward glance at Winry, who had just, in her unconscious state, absently grabbed his shirt and clung closer to him, he retorted, "I'm not going."

Roy didn't reply, only nodded at the inquirious look one of the combatants offered. He, in turn, stepped forward, approaching the boy with more caution than was necessary.

"Let me see her."

The man held his arms out to receive Winry. Unsure, the prodigy stepped back, ready to fight them off. _It's none of their damn business anyway. _

"Let me see her—she's wounded, I need to see the damage."

_Wounded_? He glanced down at her, noticing for the first time the elongated strip of lacerated bruising along her sternum. _Why didn't I see that before_?

Edward gently laid her onto his still open arms. The man checked her breastbone, muttering something about an infection similar to gang-greene. (sp.) She uttered a soft whimper as he brought up her crushed hand for examination.

"That'll take some surgery."

Ed was startled when, with no warning, the man proceeded to walk to the door.

"Hey! Come back here—you can't just—"

"Edward," The Colonel smirked, "I'm going to need you to come with us… with _her_."

There was no way to describe his fury as he was led out of the facility. _I shouldn't have let her go…_ It had been almost too easy for the Colonel… but not for long, oh no.

* * *

-1- _Bane; "Muahahaha! What now!"_

* * *

_­Bane; "Lots of news to tell you!_

_1. The distraction numbers are NOT permanent. Instead, to make it fair for those who actually like them, I have decided to do the numbered distraction conversations every other chapter. Yes, yes, I know I have no logic, but hey! It's better than nothing, right?_

_2. (This one's the coolest…) I applied for Magnet School. North Cobb (big one; International Studies), and IB (Biggest one; International Baccalaureate Program; at Cambell High…)" __-SQUEAL- "I got into both…A applied for two other schools, as well as North Cobb. She was accepted for all three of hers as well. (High class, eh?)_

_3. A new idea! I'm sure you all want to strangle me for not updating regularly. Well, this one is about 7 pages long on word…so you can understand why; it had to be perfect. **But**… it is stressful to wait… so… (Disclaimer; this idea is NOT mine; it is from another author from another site. I just built off of the idea!) …If you like, you can write a death threat for me to update._

_Rules; -1 per person._

_-no flames, just funny and imaginative ways to kill me if I don't update…_

_-IT IS JUST FOR THIS ONE CHAPTER. THE CONTEST ENDS NEXT UPDATE!_

_-If yours is the most comical (or weird-slash-creative), you'll win a fabulous prize. You will be able to choose my next ficcy. I'll give you a list and what they are going to be about. Sound good?" –prance-_

_4. "I'm working on Brought to Light now—won't do anything else until it's done. I'm hell bent on updating!"_

* * *

Bane; "So I updated...Are we happy?"

A; -puts arms above her head- "WHEAAHAAA!"


	8. Temper

**From What We Once Were**

**Chapter 8; Temper**

Bane; "Let's review. In case you haven't forgotten: Edward has two bullet wounds; one in his shoulder, one slightly below his hip. Muahaha."

A; "You wounded Edward…" 0.o

Bane; "Yes, but I hath loved him, and so shall I benounce this amour forever more." 0.o "Oooh. Shakespearian."

A; o.0 "Let us leave it at that." 0.o

* * *

It wasn't a long walk from the facility to the station, and the combatant squad strode well ahead of Edward. Much to his ill-amusement, one could be sure. When, at last, they reached the platform, a train waited quite uncoincedentially. The prodigy hurriedly made to follow the man who, in a right cheerful state, had gone in the opposite direction with Winry.

"Fullmetal?"

He stopped, wincing slightly, as if knowing what was to come.

"I think I'd prefer it if you sat in this compartment. _With us_."

If looks could kill…

He settled himself against against the window, his left shoulder taking comfort with the numbing sensation of the condensing pane. Three unknown, heavily armed men sat on the benches beside him, while Hawkeye, Hues, and Fury sat on the opposing side. The Colonel, in obvious contempt, positioned himself across from Edward.

The boy shot murderous glances, and simmered in silence at his obvious failure to deter Mustang from his smug expression. The train set into motion soon after. Amber optics scanned the world outside with a displeased manner. One who was not familiar with the situation could easily have determined the just of the predicament simply by his subtle grinding of the teeth.

He could hear the other nine members of the squad settled in the compartement next to theirs. In fact, Edward could have sworn that he made out Winry's shallow breathing; her sodden heartbeat…

He watched wordlessly as the Flame Alchemist cracked his gloved knuckles with a substantially arbitrary smirk. It was obvious to anyone that he was enjoying this. But it was, to the observant eye, that he knew his glee would only last for as long as the prodigy could hold his temper…Something that proving difficult for him already, recognized by the slightly withdrawn restraint that could be found delved deep within his eyes.

It was a good half hour before any resistance was met. Edward, in actuallality, had remained on relatively good behavior up until said point, if one were to ignore infrequent scoffs and murmured profanities. But when someone in the next compartment over attempted to move Winry into a more comfortable position, she let forth, from the depths of delirious unconsciousness, an involuntary whimper of pain. Edward rose to his feet without thought. This movement, to his absent dismay, was nearly simaltaneous to the Colonel's.

A wrath of enraged gold pierced violently through obsidian with ease, but when Edward made to go to Winry's side, he was caught by Mustang.

"Fullmetal, I would think it best that you remain within our sight."

Edward, attempting, with futile shrugs, to rid Roy's clenched fist from his wounded shoulder (which stung fertively with the firm clasp), uttered with a low snarl, "Since when do I give a damn whether you think it's best! Winry's in there, and they don't know how to—"

"She's fine, Fullmetal. It's not as if you can do much better than they can."

Still, he stood, fozen. Mainly, he was paralyzed with an overpoweringly blood-stopping rage. But worry over where this was all leading became present as well.

_He's wrong…they're hurting her. They're hurting Winry. _**My**_ Winry._

Abruptly, Edward could make out a faint, "_Ed_?" It was muffled, faded, even, but certainly there. "…Ed?" a slightly more urgent plead sounded soon after the first. She was calling him…her sweet voice whispy and pained.

He was fuming now, ready to lash out at anyone who delayed him from reaching her side. His gaze settled on Mustang, and it could not have been clearer that— title of 'Colonel' or not—he would smack the man half-way down the train corridor if he didn't step down within the next five seconds. Roy, however, would not be so easily repressed.

"Ed, Relax. She's fine."countered a very laid-back Hughes. Until now, he had been flicking through pages of photographs, each with his own favorite subject; Elysia. Calmed slightly by Maes' s serene attitude, Edward paused his anger-ridden tyrade. The Colonel, hand still at the alchemist's left shoulder, saw this as the perfect opportunity to resume control.

Forcefully, Ed was shoved back down into his seat. His shoulder hit the metal frame of the window, and with the magnitude of the gentle shove, it scraped against the wound. Dazed shock replaced aggrivation, if only momentarily. Edward fought to restrain from wincing openly.

But when the Colonel sat down, it was only a few seconds before he noticed the crimson stain that had brushed itself upon the inner palm of his once-white glove. It took no further thought, therefore, to succumb to the realization that the boy was wounded—if not slightly.

Hawkeye caught his eye, seeping a look that clearly said, _is this necessary?_ Roy broke the gaze, not responding, but allowing a slow frown to furrow his brow. He didn't like this part. It had been, for lack of better word, _amusing_ to get Edward on the train just as he wished. But keeping him from the one girl he would give up his career to save— that was uncomfortably twisted to be as inclined as to find delight in.

The gentle cracking of steel as it clenched and unclenched was something one had to be alert to catch sound of. Subtly slow, but fueled by a rising fury, automaillic 'muscles' pumped ceaselessly. It was what he substituted for screaming his thoughts aloud, just clasping and unclasping his metal fist. The clacking was irritating, something the prodigy had been sure of.

When, at last, the train ceased its voyage in Central, Edward rose at once to his feet. The Colonel, however, had made sure that those with the custody of the former-prisoner would walk well ahead, and their party would follow suit.

Edward observed this with out much thought, and glanced nervously out the window, watching them step into a conveniantly placed facility he hadn't taken much noice of before now.

"We're here."

"What's in there?" Edward inquired absently, as though he hadn't heard Mustang's most recent words.

Fury gave him a faded grin and murmured, "Military Medical Quarters; MMQ. Best thing for her now."

The prodigy heard his words, but didn't allow them to sink in…what if they were wrong? Abruptly, he longed to be shoving the combatants away from her frail form. But he couldn't; at least, _not yet_…

* * *

Bane; "I'm thoroughly disappointed in the response to my recent update of Brought to Light. I would have thought that a little more than 3 people would have reviewed…But alas, I digress. Maybe it wasn't as good as most expected."

A; -pouts- "Lemons…I wanted lemons…"

Bane; -tries to ignore A- (HEY, it's a hard feat!) "But anyway, I updated loads. 1 From What We Once Were (FWWOW), 1 Brought to Light (BtL), 1 Phantasmagoria (Changed it from Tomorrow's Today) (Ph), 3 chapters for a new fic I plan on releasing slowly…Listless (List). THERE! Now you have all the things to go see, and their abbreviations for future referance. Yay!"


	9. Intensive

**From What We Once Were**

**Chapter 9; Intensive**

Bane; "Note; there's no EdxRoy in this fic. Be AWARE of that. Sheesh." -.-'! "There is, however, a lot of information, so be on the look out."

A; 0.o? "What's up with you?"

Bane; "Well, it's Saturday night, and my mother made me miss Fullmetal Alchemist. And I have been missing it for many aggrivating and unstoppeable reasons for the last 2 weeks. I would also note that I've been waiting 5 weeks to see this one, as it is the beginning of many that I never got to see. (I picked up on the series from the beginning, and again from somewhere near the end.) I wannapunchsomething."

A; 0.0 "…just don't…hurt me…"

* * *

He limped slightly out of the passenger car, something a group of silent military officials were quick to take note of. Edward, however, refused to look at any of them. 

Looking back, the Colonel noticed a slight blotch of crimson adorning the window pane, next to which a sullen Edward had been sitting. He said nothing, but followed up at the rear of the tight-knit circle.

It was a hospital, really. A medical facility solely for the military interest. How Ed hated hospitals! They were too white, too sterile, too _hygienic_.

However, he knew they would pause at the reception desk… if he could follow, or keep them in sight, they'd be powerless to keep him from her side—where he had already once decided he belonged… The Colonel and his troup, to Edward's dismay, followed in stride. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he had first predicted.

"Name of the patient?"

"Winry Rockbell."

"Mm-hmm." The rather pudgy, and overly vulture-like receptionist mused. She had a grating voice, one of which all members of the party had to restrain from cringing to. But, never-the-less, she was quick and efficient at such matters. Scralwing something on a clip board, she bustled down a hall, and retrieved a wheeling bed.

"Lay 'er down there and we'll have a look at her."

Her instructions were followed, and she was taken away, frail body unnearvingly calm. Though, it wasn't difficult to hear the faint murmur of, 'd-don't…move me…'ey won't…l-like it if I'm m-moved…'

The prodigy took a few steps forward, merely aggrivated when a slim hand found its way to his shoulder. Hawkeye eyed him sternly. Edward simply fixed her with an equally warning glance, and shrugged her off. His temper had gone too long within him, now. There was going to be an explosion soon enough.

Several military personel surrounding him glared at the Colonel, stating in a silent, yet severe tone,

'You're going to be responsible for every thing (or every person) that he breaks.'

* * *

The waiting room was a pastel color; pink walls, blue ceiling. Brilliant. He fiddled aimlessly at his sleeve, wondering how deep the bullet had settled itself simply to keep his mind off Winry. (And when he could have been reading all those _interesting_ magazines!) 

Hawkeye was discussing aiming tactics with a very…pale… Havoc, Hughes was enthusiastically sharing pictures with an equally over-obsessed mother, and several of the squad were settling themselves in the chairs, looking _very_ out of place.

Roy strode back into the room, an expression Edward couldn't quite recognize on his face. Not that it mattered, really. The boy didn't need to know what the guy was feeling just to wipe wall-paper off the walls with him. (Heh, heh…)

He stood up, features contorting into what seemed like more of a pout, but was obviously meant to be one of rage.

"Where is she?"

"Follow me, Fullmetal."

No other explanation was given, but it didn't matter. He needed no other incentive to walk with the Colonel. Once out of earshot, Mustang made a sharp turn down another hallway, opening the doors to find a stairwell. To Ed's surprise, however, they did not proceed.

"What the hell is going on!"

There was a sigh, then a somewhat… saddened?… colonel pivoted to face him.

"So you haven't guessed?"

Edward only fixed him with a steely glare, remaining silent as though to give some indication of wishing to hear more.

"Your resignation isn't valid."

"Well, validation isn't my problem."

"If the Fuhrer wishes to make it a problem, it _will_ be yours."

"Oh, heh! What a predictament."

"We haven't submitted the papers. It's not too late—"

"I'm done with the Military, Mustang. I'm sick of being a dog."

Exasperation dripped from his voice, and he crossed his arms in an effectively looming stance.

"Then you can be a stray."

Confusion lit in Edward's face, obviously adding to a smug Colonel's ego.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Fullmetal, that you are not of age. You were permitted to remain on your own only because you were under guardianship of the State. Now that we are free of that…" Here he paused to make sure Edward was paying attention (which he reluctantly was), "…responsibility, you are to be given to a new home…under foster care."

Panick was apparent in his eyes now; pools of darkening worry. Roy didn't even skip a beat.

"Winry, in turn, would have a temporary guardian as well."

"You—You can't do that!"

Although he expected a smirk, only a serious edge gripped Roy's features.

"Yes, Fullmetal. I can."

Defiance was predictably set now.

"We'll run 'till I turn 18."

"And you'll live off what?"

There was a slight pause, then, "We'll live off what we can."

"You would do that to your brother for a year?"

Another pause, then a small sigh of submission.

"I'm not going to get a 'temporary guardian'."

"I figured you'd say that."

"So what do we do, then?"

A sharp tone of annoyance crept into his words.

"You'll revoke your resignation. No problems will appear, due to the fact that, according to the papers, you never left our sight."

"But Winry—"

"And Ms. Rockbell will be placed under our care, but will be exempt of all military participation."

Edward gave a satisfied nod, agreeing silently to the terms.

"Why did you go through all this trouble just to get me back?"

Roy simply laughed.

"Because you're the beloved 'Guardian of the People', and we're short of personel until next Semptember, the month of the next exam. We have to salvage what we have until then."

"Sounds like a waste of time," he muttered, but added quickly, "…Do you think I could see her now?"

A last, and utterley wretched silence passed between them before Roy spoke softly, "Better not. She's in a medically-induced coma, and nobody can go into her room. Best relax… and… that shoulder looks like it needs tending." He indicated the soaked sleeve of his shirt, which had just recently (without his knowledge) gotten a red-tinged sheen.

"It's fine."

But he walked in the opposite direction anyway. Not caring what Mustang thought, he headed upstairs, striding in a steady ascent towards the supply floor.

There, he met a stout young man perhaps a year younger than him.

"You really should just go downstairs and have someone look at that." He replied in an aggrivatingly nasally voice when Edward requested a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

It just took a glare that said clearly, 'Either you go fetch it for me, or you'll drag yourself towards it for yourself.'

After a short trip to the restroom, Ed slipped back into a seat across the hall from Winry's room. His shoulder and hip smarted painfully, and nobody who passed by could tell he had actually given the wounds any attention. But the sharp smell of disinfectant remained with him throughout the long hours even he knew he would have to wait for… Waiting, however, was of no consequence. She was safe; they had a secured, non-foster related future, and he felt considerably better.

Until he remembered Al;

_I just… He slipped my mind. _

Guilt was overtaking his mind, but when he spoke to Hawkeye about it briefly, she nodded with a slight smile.

"It's alright, Edward. It's a short ride to Resemboul, and it would be best if you remained here with Ms. Rockbell in the chance that she wakes soon."

She received a mumbled 'thanks' before leaving formally, addressing the Colonel curtly.

* * *

_It's just not right…,_ he thought fleetingly, knees at his chest as he rocked back and forth on the soft, unsettled earth. She lay just a few feet away from him, and despite the impossibility, he could have sworn that he could still small the stench. 

_Brother's not home yet… What if something happened?_

Finally, he couldn't take the rancid aroma (which was non-existant to anybody else but him), jumping abruptly to his feet. He would wash his hands of it. _Again_. _And again_. _And_ _again_.

* * *

Bane; "You should all be proud of me; I have resisted all urges to do inter-chapter notes. However, due to this resistance, I have developed a rare syndrome." :-twitch-: 

A; "Great. Now you can add it to the list of all the other problems you have."

Bane; :-rolls eyes-: "It is a serious case that permits an authoress to write only after having received reviews. No name has been given ('ey; a new fun thing for my reviewers to think up!) and it is critical. Help me recover!" :-twitch-:"

A; :-rolls eyes back-:

Bane; " (Just kidding, by the way, folks… don't get all worried. Heh.) Just wanted to mention that I actually know I'm being cruel!" :–points at major plot-tist-cliffy-: " Just so you know that it wasn't an accident!"


	10. Circumstances

**From What We Once Were **

**Chapter 10; Circumstances**

Bane; "Oookay! This is my angst kick; however, remember; with all angst comes accumulative fluff!"

* * *

"Umm… Edward, wake up."

Two heavy-lidded eyes stared groggily up at a somewhat withdrawn Maes.

"Whaat—"

"It's Ms.Rockbell, Ed. She's awake."

Something was wrong; it was obvious by the way the man moved, the way he forced his usually eager smiles… only too apparent.

"Is something… Is Winry--?" Edward questioned; not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"She's not really doing so well."

"What do you mean not doing well— she was in a 'medication-induced coma!' How the hell did it get—"

The alchemist was on his feet now, eyes wide.

"—Edward, calm down… Her physical state is better. It's just that…" Hughes placed a finger to his temple, "It takes a while for the mind to recover."

"Then let me see her."

"They've done all the tests they needed to conduct. I think we could swing that."

* * *

"No."

"What d'ya' mean by 'no'?"

"I mean… no. She's not in any state to be seen, and that temper of yours will make it—"

Edward calmed, realizing that any bursts of rage would count against him. Facing the Colonel, the prodigy seethed, "Just let me talk to her for a few minutes. What the hell do you think I could do wrong, anyway?"

It was a full second before the (previously relieved) Mustang realized that the restrain would only last for so long.

"And IF YOU HANDLE EVERYTHING SO MUCH GODDAMN BETTER, WHY IN _HELL_ WAS I THE ONE TO FIND HER? TO GO INTO THE FIGHT?"

Roy sighed, and looked away.

"Look, Fullmetal. It's not really you I'm that worried about… but I figure I might as well say it if you're planning on dissesembling the facility with your screaming."

There was silence as Ed settled momentarily.

"She woke up from her coma an hour ago, as you already know."

"Yeah… so?"

"It took a good while to stabilize her, but it was managed. I went to see her progression myself, Fullmetal."

"Maes says she's not well, but if you've seen her—"

Mustang bit back a sigh. In one forced sentence, he blurted, "She rants about you, Fullmetal." Edward was taken aback, and struggled to form words.

"W-what did she…?"

"She thinks she's still in captivity, and... she…"

"She what?"

Ed was growing impatient now; the sinking in his stomach now promoted to drowning.

"She won't open her eyes, though the doctors and I spoke to her to reassure her that she is no longer in a hellhole."

"S-so she's been told now, she's fine… right?"

_But it's never that easy._

"Fullmetal, Ms. Rockbell begged for death. She insists that you'll hold her to her promise. That nobody can know where you are."

He froze. Amber pupils quivered with realization.

"N-No… I--"

"Do you know what she meant by 'promise'?"

_I didn't mean it… Please… I didn't mean it!_

There was no response; Edward simply started towards her at a dangerously swift pace.

* * *

He was running through the hallways now, dodging all that came in his path. Counting the doors, Ed halted at one room that stood ajar.

"…Winry…?" He gasped in a low, husky whisper.

"Winry, can you hear me?"

She jerked her head up and winced, as though the sound, even soft, disturbed her. Her eyes didn't open, despite her obvious awareness. The hum of the surrounding stabilizers must have been blinding compared to his subtle whispers.

"It's me, Win. It's Edward."

Her head lowered, and she pulled back slightly.

"Y-you're not… won't tell you… He's safe…"

Nearly incoherent mumblings took place, and Edward struggled violently not to shake her. Finally, cold, metal digits laced themselves with those of her un-injured hand.

"See, I didn't break them this time."

She tried to withdraw, to pull away from him, but he held his hand in hers in a gentle but firm grip. Lowering his face to her ear he whispered, "The nightmare's over, Win. You're here… with us…" She tensed, short sobs escaping bruised lips.

Edward gasped, loosening his grip slowly. He was reluctant to part, wishing he could convince her of her security now… with him…

It wasn't until she could feel the fallen tear upon her cheek that she clutched to him. (1)

"…E-Ed…?"

Arms looped around his neck, and she leaned onto him, allowing him to have her sitting bridal-style in his lap. He could feel her wracking sobs now; the way she shook as she let it out.

"I-I'm so sorry… I almost… I wanted—but, you h-h-had to stay… t-they couldn't kn-know!"

Rough fingers brushed through her hair soothingly, and he said gently, "It's okay; _shhh_. It's alright, Winry. It's over. It's over."

* * *

Bane; "It's short, I'll admit. However, I slept 4 hours last night, and have worked on our (a group project, with A, a stupid person who decided she lived too many minutes away to do any real work, and me.) science project from 6pm-2:14am yesterday, and from 9am-2pm today. I'm venting, while presenting a reason at the same time! (Original!)"

A; "But those straight 14 hours or non-stop work will pay off when we get a 100." :–cheering-:

Bane; "In any case, for those who read the story 'Listless', I will announce that I _do not_ have appendicitis. A doctor who was convinced that my being 13 meant I was 5 put me under a 48 hour observation… and although the pains had lasted 3 days, it went away in the first 27 hours. They do not, at this point, know what was wrong, nor really seem to care. They speculate that it might have been a virus… but The Twi-light Zone might have different theories."

A; "In any case; now that we've bored you to death... hope you enjoyed the actual story... 'cause I seriously doubt it."

A & Bane; :-Glaring match-:


End file.
